Page 80

INKLINGS OF DOUBT

Lizzie

JULY 31, 1999

“I HEARD HE’S SOME HOTSHOT FROM D UBLIN .”

“His dad’s one of the Kavanaghs from town.”

“And he’s joining our class after summer?”

“Yeah, he joined sixth class for a couple of weeks before we broke up for the holidays.”

“He did?”

“Yeah, and apparently, he was supposed to be starting first year but has to repeat sixth class because of the move.”

“What’s his name?”

“Jonathan, I think? At least that’s what I think Cormac said.”

“He’s meant to be unreal at rugby.”

“Where does he play?”

“Outside center, I think.”

“What part of Dublin is he from?”

“The rich part.”

“No shit?”

“For real. My father used to go to school with his father, so I know for a fact his parents bought Wild Rose Manor over on upper west, so the lad has to be minted.”

“How minted are we talking?”

Sprawled out on the sidelines of the pitch at the rugby club, surrounded by a few of my classmates at Sacred Heart, the boys from Scoil Eoin, and a few girls from St. Bernadette’s Convent, I listened to the conversation happening around me and sighed.

Danny Call and Patrick had come to blows yesterday, while Pierce O’Neill and Hugh had come close. Yet here they were, laughing and tossing a rugby ball back and forth like they didn’t have a care in the world.

Boys were so strange.

When they had an issue with each other, they resolved it by kicking the living daylights out of one another and then went right back to being friends.

I wasn’t nearly as forgiving and still harbored a Gibsie-sized chip on my shoulder when it came to some of those boys. Thankfully, he and Claire had scampered off behind the clubhouse, so I didn’t have to worry about holding my tongue if they decided to pick on him today.

“We should play spin the bottle.” One of the convent girls giggled, sidling up to Patrick. “With two-minute kisses.”

“ With tongue,” another one of the girls from St. Bernadette’s chimed in. This one took a seat next to Hugh and dusted a piece of imaginary fluff from his T-shirt. “Who’s up for it?”

I didn’t know about spin the bottle, but I knew with absolute certainty that I was up for ripping her hand off if she kept touching my best friend.

Fury rose up inside of me at a rapid rate, and I balled my hands into fists at my sides to stop myself from grabbing her stupid red hair.

That was a problem I had: obsessing over things I loved the most. It wasn’t something I had control over. When I felt things, I felt them with every part of my heart. When I was sad or cross, it was the same. I couldn’t be steady or still in myself. I felt the full wrath of my emotions at any given chance. And right now, I was feeling incensed because she was touching the person I loved most in the world.

I wanted to stand up, march over to where they were sitting, and shove her away from him. I wanted to scream he’s mine at the top of my lungs, but I couldn’t because he wasn’t .

Hugh kissed me that day in the cave, but a month had gone by since the trip to the coast, and he hadn’t brought it up once.

In fact, a small part of me wondered if the kiss in the fairy cave really happened or if it was just another figment of my disastrous imagination.

Anxious, I sat cross-legged on the grass and pressed my fingers to my temples. I was doing well this summer, and I’d been taking my medication every day without fail, but I could never be sure of myself. I always had an inkling of doubt.

I was so deep in my thoughts, I hadn’t noticed the circle everyone had formed on the grass.

A circle that I found myself in, sitting opposite Hugh.

“You okay, Lizzie?” Marybeth asked in a gentle voice while she and her twin sister sat on either side of me. “Do you have a headache?”

“No, I’m fine.” Forcing a smile, I clasped my hands together. “It’s all good.”